


the past forgives

by Julx3tte



Series: short but softs [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Light Angst, Kissing, bad memories, i wanted to write a short but soft fic too, since everyone else is doing it, sylvain has a complicated relationship with intimacy, therapy by touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25911349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julx3tte/pseuds/Julx3tte
Summary: Ingrid’s learned to kiss him in the ways that make his toes curl against the ends of the sheets. The last time Sylvain let a girl do that to him, he’d blown out the lamps and told her that he meant to fuck her in the dark because that’s what she deserved.or: sylvain learns to be loved
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: short but softs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002759
Comments: 18
Kudos: 53





	the past forgives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicole_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/gifts), [paperpenpal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal/gifts), [Ethereally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/gifts).
  * Inspired by [my head, my heart, my heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25901134) by [nicole_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/nicole_writes). 
  * Inspired by [a handful of decades late](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25902106) by [paperpenpal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal/pseuds/paperpenpal). 
  * Inspired by [curtain call](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25903384) by [Ethereally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally). 



Ingrid’s learned to kiss him in the ways that make his toes curl against the ends of the sheets. The last time Sylvain let a girl do that to him, he’d blown out the lamps and told her that he meant to fuck her in the dark because that’s what she deserved. 

He didn’t mean it, even as the words spilled out of his mouth, but he refused to let her see the way he needed to pretend he was loved and thrown a spike at her heart the size of his spear.

The way Ingrid kisses him - methodically, brushing her sunshine hair to the side before descending on the pinch of skin just above his collarbone - isn’t something he’d ever asked to do. Like Ingrid does with everything else in his life, she’d figured it out on her own and saved it.

She tilts his chin up with the pad of her thumb and Sylvain touches his left cheek to the pillow so Ingrid can work her way up the smooth line of his neck. Sylvain’s hands know what to do before he does. They find their way into her hair and around her shoulders with a restrained touch.

The first time she kissed him like this, her hand had been at the center of his chest and her hips on his lap, all but pinning Sylvain to the bed and preventing his escape. It was uncomfortable, to be faced with the cerulean plea of her eyes; to know she meant to strip him bare and could and would and would wait until he nodded in permission. It was rapturous when her breath hit his skin like a mountain. 

She hasn’t done it again, after that. They kiss and make love and touch each other, but she doesn’t ask him to unravel.

Ingrid’s lips are by his ear and Sylvain can feel himself tremble. He digs his heels into the mattress and pulls his shoulder blades into the pillow propping him up and shuts his eyes so she can’t see the way his walls are falling apart, brick by brick.

Oh, how Sylvain can unravel all on his own. 

He thinks about the last girl he took to bed before Ingrid. Filthy and war-torn, she’d thrown him out of her home and out onto her doorstep minutes after they’d finished. The walk back to camp was the most shameful of his life, and he skipped breakfast, preferring to hide behind the walls of his tent instead of hiding behind a smile that tricked no one.

She puts her thumb on his cheek and slips the base of a finger between his lips and waits for him to lean into her touch. He does, and he keeps his eyes firmly shut until he feels Ingrid pull back, sitting on her haunches, hands still offering the barest touch. 

When he opens them, he hopes he won’t erase the sweet blush on Ingrid’s cheeks. His eyes are hollow and gant, and the memory of dozens of trysts cycles in between blinks. 

The smell of hay and horse shit and the thumping of hooves as he took the stablehand behind the shed; the sound of thunder and rainwater flowing from the rooftop as some noblewoman whose husband was away invited him over. The time he’d burned his ass by thrusting too roughly and catching a candle. The red sting on his face as some girl’s sister realized that he was in their home. 

Ingrid holds until he can keep his eyes open long enough to focus on her. Her blush remains, but her lips are a thin line. Sylvian’s hand reaches for her, his thumb brushing the side of her chin.

“Ing…”

_ I don’t think you should see this, Ingrid. This is everything you’ve helped clean up after for years. This is Sylvain at his finest, the Sylvain you’ve always hated. The version of me I keep locked away so you and the others don’t have to feel disgust. Let me keep it away from you _ .

She must discern the words he’s trying to form, because a furrow appears in between Ingrid’s eyebrows and her palm comes to rest on the side of his face, cupping his chin gently. 

Sylvain’s grip tightens as Ingrid’s lips purse and her blonde hair sinks from his vision, a setting sun kissing him with the embers of sunlight above his collarbone. She repeats the motions on the other half of him, the half where his heart beats and rests and lays claimed.

His toes curl in and the softest of groans escapes him as Ingrid burns a vow into his skin:  _ You are worthy _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Nicole, paperpenpal, and Eth’s soft but short fics today


End file.
